


Four Your Pleasure

by LaBelladoneX, NeverNik



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Minor Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Multi, Ron Weasley Bashing, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-02
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-04-30 18:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14502948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaBelladoneX/pseuds/LaBelladoneX, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeverNik/pseuds/NeverNik
Summary: Without realising it, Uncle Sev practically hands Draco Hermione's tits on a plate for his seventeenth birthday. There's only one problem for our beloved birthday boy - getting past Ron Weasley's pimply arse to get his hands on said tits. A story in which one contemplates how to make climbing onto a mattress look sexy and Draco comes to the rescue... a lot.





	Four Your Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coyg81 (coyg_81)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coyg_81/gifts).



> Happy birthday, my love! This is all for you!
> 
> There are liberties galore! This fic is really PWP and written to celebrate my BFF’s birthday. FYP was co-written by the Queen of Smut herself, Nevernik, and alpha’d by the amazing In Dreams. 
> 
> And also, kudos to Kikakanyume7 (Ericka Vélez) for the best collective noun for fangirls as per our Strictly Dramione Facebook page. 
> 
> Warning! This is very much an anti-Ron fic and the adjectives used to describe him are only to emphasise just how much Draco despises him. We mean no offense to any red-haired readers.

 

The best birthday present Draco Malfoy ever received was given to him on his seventeenth birthday. He opened the small box — frowning that the gift was a little on the measly side — and warily unrolled the small piece of parchment. Like any spoiled child, he’d grabbed the gift and turned away from the rest of the adults in the room so he’d get to see it first. 

“Uncle Sev,” he called to his godfather over his shoulder, “I don’t understand the writing on this. What is it?”

Severus Snape leaned over, whispering in his ear. 

“To anyone else, it will appear like a spell to ensure you have hospital corners on your bed.” His austere tone sent shivers down Draco’s spine, and not in a good way. “But, for  _ you _ only, it’s a spell to become invisible without triggering  _ any _ wards or alarms. Dumbledore himself won’t be able to detect it.” The antisocial professor placed a hand on his godson’s shoulder and tapped it a few times, still finding human contact unsettling. “It will keep you safe, Draco. And stop calling me _ Sev _ .”

But Draco Malfoy — at seventeen years of age and now quite legal — wasn’t concerned about being _ safe _ ; he didn’t care about Snake-Eyes Riddle or death-eating parents. This spell was going to get him places; it was going to allow him to feast on a sight he’d only dreamt of for the past three years.

Hermione Granger’s tits.

This spell was going to get him a front row seat to the vision that was Hermione Granger’s tits.

_ Happy birthday to me! _

* * *

 

Draco spent the summer months perfecting the spell. He used it often, especially during his vacation to the Malfoy villa in France where he passed many hours with the teenage daughters of family friends — even though they were completely unaware of his presence. He followed them around religiously, watching them shower, sunbathe, and…  _ play _ . 

_ Who knew French girls were so… modern? _

He wanked many times in front of them and they were oblivious. It was brilliant!

_ Oh, yeah! Best present EVER! _

That all stopped, however, when he met Clara. She was the eldest daughter of his father’s German business associate who was spending the holidays at a nearby villa. At twenty-three, she was experienced, adventurous, and very willing to offer her services to a horny teenager. 

At first it was fucking — fast and sweaty whilst staring at bouncing tits — before Clara decided Draco needed to be instructed in the ways of sexual pleasure. His  _ lessons _ spanned the entire month of August. Hours were spent studying the secrets of a woman’s body. He learned every trick in the book, from breath play to body worship, favouring blindfolds and turning his partner on with the power of his voice. 

He also learned to last a lot longer than his previous personal best of eleven thrusts.

That summer, Draco developed an appreciation for the female form that far exceeded the realm of Hermione Granger’s tits and, when thinking about his forthcoming return to Hogwarts, he knew that a quick flash of her comely assets would never be enough. What had begun as a horny teenager’s fantasy was now the desire of a young man to seduce the Gryffindor lioness. 

However, he really didn't think seduction would cut it either. As Clara taught him the art of love making, the joy of sex, and the pure primal need to fuck, her face morphed into Granger’s at every turn. When she spoke, he heard the feminine whispers of the infuriatingly sexy know-it-all and as his fingers and tongue caressed every inch of the German’s body, he imagined what Hermione’s skin would taste like. 

Yeah… she was  _ Hermione _ now.

Hermione Granger had his heart, and he was going to have  _ her _ — body and soul. 

But he could still have some fun on the way, right?

* * *

 

Back at school, September rolled into October and Draco spent as much free time as he could spying on the other Slytherin girls. He witnessed  _ everything _ , from Astoria Greengrass’ nipple rings to Millie and Pansy getting down and dirty with a strap-on and chocolate body mousse. Watching Theo ram his cock into Blaise’s hole was an eye-opener, but even Draco felt himself harden at the sight of the dark Italian’s erection as it was swallowed by Theo’s willing mouth. He was entranced. At first he thought Blaise and Theo were experimenting — or stoned — but as he began to watch them more closely in and out of the common room, Draco realised they really did care for each other. It seemed Clara’s adventurous side was rubbing off on him as he began to wonder what it would be like to...

He didn’t need Flint’s used copies of  _ Wicked Witches _ to jerk off anymore; Draco had all the porn he needed right there in the Slytherin dorms. But he’d yet to pursue his true target. 

It was impossible to get Gra- _ Hermione _ on her own; she was always with Potter or that lanky Rod of Sepsis. How she even let Ron Weasley touch her was beyond him! Draco hated seeing them together, holding hands or cuddling. She could do so much better; she could have  _ him. _ He would worship her. 

Draco often wondered if she was watching him too, glancing in his direction during classes or across the long tables at dinner, but he put that down to wishful thinking that was maybe bordering on obsession. But only slightly.

The opportunity to get closer to her happened one Saturday afternoon when he was leaving the library. Draco heard hushed voices and, being of a rather inquisitive nature, he followed the sounds until he could see Hermione and the Belisha Beacon kissing in an abandoned corridor. He felt sick; nights of wanking to images of her would be ruined by the sight of that _ tool _ with his arms around the girl he desperately needed. He was about to turn away when he noticed Ron reach back to open a door and drag Hermione forward.

“It’s empty.” Draco heard him encourage her. “Come on, Mione.”

_ Mione _ . That was fucking disgusting. Her name was heaven; a legend. Hermione was the daughter of King Menelaus of Sparta and the most beautiful woman in the ancient world, Helen of Troy. In Draco’s eyes, Hermione Granger was now the most beautiful woman in the world, a stunning tribute to the forebearer of her name. And that fucking  _ twat _ couldn’t even be bothered to use the first syllable.  _ Prick! _

He moved quickly, muttering the incantation and disappearing just as the door began to swing closed. Holding his breath — in case The Brightest Witch of Her Age realised he was there — he leaned against the door and waited for all hell to break loose. Dumbledore may not be capable of detecting Snape’s spell, but  _ nothing  _ got past Hermione Granger. It made Draco want her all the more. She was brilliant. 

Silence. 

It seemed the spell was Hermione-proof after all.

“Mione,” Ron mumbled, taking her lips with his own sloppy gob. He was all arms and spit, making Draco want to haul him away and batter him to death for having no finesse.  _ Well, what do you expect from a Weasley? _

His fingernails pierced the palms of his hands in his balled fists as he watched the girl he loved being manhandled by an ape. She was quiet, allowing Ron to undress her quickly whilst mumbling something about Quidditch. When he had her down to her bra and knickers, he stood back and ripped off his unkempt school uniform, casually nodding at Hermione to finish herself. 

Draco was seething; not  _ once _ did the lanky fucker take the time to touch her smooth, lightly-tanned skin, or admire her mocha curls as they lay across her shoulders. The light shining through the tall windows highlighted the honeyed tones nestling within the strands of darker hair and matched the golden flecks that sparkled in her deep brown eyes. Did the long streak of misery even notice?

Oh, no! Fucktard O’Weasley’s brains were too far up his arse to observe such natural beauty.

Well, Draco Malfoy caught  _ all _ of that one morning in Potions when he had to share some ground hummingbird bones with Hermione after Neville accidentally mistook hers for ferret gallstones and caused a minor nuclear explosion over his side of the workbench. 

_ Annnnd _ the twat failed to compliment her on the deliciously decadent underwear she was now removing…  _ herself! _

Hermione was wearing a strapless floral lace longline bra. Thanks to Clara’s love of sexy lingerie, Draco was confident the colour was Tiffany-blue — that Tiffany had style, whoever she was. The lace spread underneath her full breasts and smoothed across her skin, revealing a thoroughly kissable amount of bare stomach above the matching hipster thong. Draco closed his eyes, breathing heavily whilst imagining his tongue licking its way up those cheeks as he gently pulled the thin material away from her slim hips. 

“Ronald, do you hear something?” 

_ Bollocks! _

Draco froze — terrified she’d realise he was right there, leaning against the closed door for support as he watched her undress. She was a sight he’d never tire of. 

Unfortunately, he also had to look at Weasley’s pale, pimply arse and prayed to Merlin that the matchstick didn’t turn around to reveal his… 

Draco got a little sick in his mouth.

“Mione, hurry up, I’ve got practise.”

She opened her mouth to speak but was assaulted by another slobbery wet kiss as Weasley hoisted her up onto the desk behind her and lined himself up. Draco never got the opportunity to truly admire her figure; she was blocked by the aforementioned pale, wobbling arse. 

At least  _ his _ own pale arse was toned. 

“Bit tight, Mione. Sort yourself out, yeah?”

The Ginger Nut didn’t even give her time to move, forcing himself inside her until he was in as far as he could go. 

Ron Weasley lasted seven thrusts. Draco counted, his eyes focused on Hermione’s as she just… sat there. She did nothing. She didn’t even acknowledge that Ron had pulled out and was already redressing, still muttering about Quidditch. 

After a moment she blinked, bringing herself back to the present, and began to gather up her clothing. Ron planted a smack on her arse and told her he’d see her back in the common room before turning to the door. Sidestepping quickly at the last minute, Draco kicked out his invisible foot so the door slammed on Weasley’s heel — although he wholeheartedly wished it was the fucker’s lacklustre baby carrot of a knob.

He kept his eye on the closed door, listening to the diminishing sound of footsteps. For some unknown reason, the idea of watching Hermione dress didn’t sit right with Draco just then. She needed privacy after being subject to such… 

There were no words. 

He felt angry — so fucking angry that  _ anyone _ could treat her that way! She was born to be desired. She  _ deserved _ sensual pleasure and, by Merlin’s fucking prostate, he was going to give it to her!

He almost missed her slipping out the door, since his eyes were screwed shut in rage. 

A tiny, yet significant, smell of something exotic caught Hermione unawares as she passed him, causing her to stop abruptly and twirl around. 

Draco didn’t move; he held his breath and waited for her to walk away, panicking that Uncle Sev’s bloody spell didn’t disguise body odour. Not that he  _ had _ body odour, of course. Malfoys do not have  _ anything _ as uncouth as…  _ body odour _ .

_ Shite! _

Hermione frowned, then wiped a stray tear from her eye before leaving. 

Draco followed immediately. Why was she crying? Well, in fairness,  _ he’d _ be crying if Weasley treated him that way… not that he… oh,  _ bollocks!  _ That came out all sorts of wrong.

He crept along as carefully as possible — now totally paranoid about the spell — and found himself nearing a familiar door. Hermione whispered the password and waited for the room to admit her. When the door swung open, however, she didn’t go straight in; she just stood there. Draco inched closer although she still didn’t move. 

_ What the fuck? _

But the desire to be near her completely outweighed any rational thought, and he kept moving forward until they were almost touching. He could smell her shampoo — seaweed and peony. 

Suddenly, Hermione entered the room, her hand resting on the door, keeping it open. 

_ What was she waiting for? _

He slipped in behind her and moved to the stone seating area near the spacious, tiled bath. 

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and locked the door. 

It was only then Draco copped on as to where he was, and with whom. The fucking Prefects’ bathroom. What if she only popped in to have a crap? 

His fears were calmed when Hermione waved her wand at the rows of taps leaning over the large bath, which spluttered out vast quantities of warm water. She chose a pomegranate bath soak and flooded the rising bath with exotic-smelling bubbles. The aroma was intoxicating and Draco relaxed, realising he was now a willing audience to the view he’d waited two years to see. 

Hermione slowly undid her shirt buttons. She pulled the material from her waistband and let it slip off her shoulders to land haphazardly on the floor. That left a full view of her Tiffany-blue bra. It was fucking gorgeous. 

The skirt slowly followed the shirt to pool at her feet, and Draco found himself gripping the side of the bench, desperately trying to control his breathing. He wanted to touch her so badly. He needed to… Merlin, he didn't think he'd ever been so hard in his life! It was bloody torture.

She turned away from him, kicking off her navy docksiders and bending over to roll her school socks down her toned legs.  She dropped them beside the other discarded clothes, revealing her arse — two perfectly-shaped cheeks divided by the tiniest sliver of lace. His breathing became erratic, and his body reacted violently to the luscious display. Blood gathered on his lip as he bit down hard to stop himself from moaning out loud. 

Hermione turned as she stood back up, casually waving a hand in the air. Draco caught the whispered spell, watching in rapture as her bra fell forward. This was it; the moment he was waiting for.  _ This  _ was the ringside seat to the view he’d craved and  _ fuck, _ it was worth it. She was fucking glorious. 

Her breasts were full, round, and pert. He found himself raising his hands as if to gauge how they’d fit in his palms, already knowing they’d be perfect. His elegant piano-playing fingers would caress and mould them until she’d cry out in sheer agony for him. And he wouldn’t disappoint her. 

Her areolae were dusky pink, and Draco longed to lick and suck them until they hardened between his lips. As if by magic, the cool bathroom air made them tighten in front of his eyes, producing two small, dark cherries, ripe for plucking. He licked his lips, moving his floating hands to his trousers to rapidly undo his belt and zip. 

Not once did Draco Malfoy think to cast a  _ Silencio _ .

As he rescued himself from the claustrophobic confines of his trousers, Hermione snapped the strings of her thong against her hips before sliding the sliver of lace down her legs to join the rest of her clothing. 

She trailed fingertips across her smooth skin, sighing as her eyes fluttered shut. Beginning at her ankles, she continued her sensual journey over smooth legs, slim hips, and that kissable stomach before reaching her breasts, and kneading them softly.

And did Draco stop to think this behaviour might be a tad unusual for the Gryffindor bookworm? Not a chance. Wicked Witches’  _ Muff of the Month _ could be open for business on the other side of the room and he’d be none the wiser. 

He held his erection in a firm grip, moving his hand up and down, his flesh sticky from its leaking tip. Draco ached to touch her, to trace his long fingers across her skin. It wasn’t enough; just looking wasn’t enough. He burned for her. 

Hermione turned away and stepped into the inviting bubbles, humming softly. She ducked under the foam, then surfaced and swung her soaking hair away from her face. Droplets rolled down her neck onto her breasts, and Draco found himself out of his seat and kneeling at the water’s edge in an instant. He leaned forward, resting a hand on the ground as he brought himself closer to his release. She’d never realise how much she was torturing him, but if these few moments were all he had…

Her hands kept caressing her skin, slithering across the droplets and swiping them away. Hermione cupped her breasts again, moaning as her nipples caught between her pinching fingers. She bent her head, tracing her tongue across the pebbled tips as she raised them closer to her face. 

The heat from the bath and the sheer enormity of what was happening had sweat rolling down Draco’s temples. His lip was swollen from biting it as he tried to remain silent, but his breathing became more and more erratic as he watched Hermione squirm and moan in the rolling water. 

He felt his balls tighten and closed his eyes. This was a moment he wanted to savour. Merlin knew, it wasn’t perfect. She was out of his reach, oblivious to his presence, and would be mortified if she knew he was ogling her like a masturbating Peeping Tom. But it didn’t stop him. He quietly groaned his release, letting the result drip onto the wet floor. 

Hermione looked up.

Reality dawned. 

_ Did she hear me?  _

She’d certainly spot the fresh stain splattered on the tiles at his knees, never mind the heavy breathing that he was desperately trying to calm but just exacerbated by holding his breath... then choking. 

Hermione moved through the water, folding her arms over the wet tiles and resting her chin on top. She studied the small puddle with a sly smile, before reaching out with an inquiring finger. Draco watched her trace the slender digit through the viscous liquid, bringing it to her mouth, sliding it in, sucking it slowly and deeply. He heard her hum in appreciation, as if she’d just licked champagne from a strawberry.

Draco Malfoy died and went straight to Heaven. He didn’t even pass  _ Go! _

_ Wait! _

She knew he was there. 

Well, of course she did. Brightest Witch… blah, blah, blah. 

_ Bollocks! _

Visions suddenly flashed before him: Dumbledore expelling him in disgrace; his mother crying sadly; his father… well, let’s not go there. Draco would spend the rest of his days in the I.C.U. wing at Azkaban, in the section they kept cordoned off for stalkers and sex offenders.

He was fucked. 

Draco stood and wandlessly cleaned himself, closing his trousers and stepping away from the accusing stain. He glanced over to where Hermione was still resting, watching her beautiful features frown slightly before smoothing into a wicked grin. 

_ What—? _

She splashed backwards in the water and floated like a snow angel across the foamy ripples. Bared completely, Draco was again riveted to the spot, watching intently as Hermione raised her hands behind her head, stretching her breasts. 

Slowly, she opened her legs, giving him a poolside view of the water lapping around the entrance to her body. Draco had been so obsessed with her breasts that he hadn’t taken the time to appreciate the part of her body that was calling to him now. She was almost bare; a tiny strip of tight dark curls sat just above her clit, leaving the coral folds clear for intimate inspection. 

Draco swallowed, frozen to the spot and terrified to move for fear of blurting out her name or diving into the water just to be near her. He wanted to back away — he really did — but nothing was working. Except for his cock, which had developed its own brain on Draco’s twelfth birthday.

Hermione righted herself and waded to the steps. Slowly, she climbed out and made her way to the stained tile. Her back was to him now, and Draco found his treacherous feet moving until he was inches away from her. 

He couldn’t leave; he was too close. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, ready to whisper her name. 

But she got there first. 

“Make me feel,” she murmured softly, looking back over her shoulder. “Show me what it should be like… please…  _ Draco _ .”

Yeah, he must be dead. And, for some unfathomable reason, the Powers That Be actually let Draco Malfoy into Heaven. 

A wave of confidence washed over him, like he was reborn. She was calling to him —  _ begging _ . She’d said  _ please _ , hadn’t she? Well, he was going to be St Mungo, the Red Cross, and The fucking Order of Malta all rolled into one. 

_ Draco Malfoy to the rescue!  _

_ Get. In.  _

He conjured an ornate mirror that leant against the stone wall near her clothes. Its rose-gold frame glistened with intricate floral patterns that wove into each other and held the shimmering mirror in place. 

Hermione stepped over to it, watching her reflection soften before fading away completely, chased off by the steam from the warm bath. She raised her hand to wipe the glass, but stopped as a familiar scrawl revealed itself before her eyes.

_ Room of Requirement. One hour.  _

He hesitated — before adding  _ Draco.  _

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

Draco the Brave decided to push his luck. He quietly moved towards her, stopping mere inches away and tenderly pushing the wet hair from her shoulders. 

“One hour,” he whispered as his lips ghosted across her shoulder. 

Hermione closed her eyes, her breath catching as she felt his lips on her skin. She knew it was him; she’d even known he was in the other room, watching. She’d recognise his scent anywhere. 

She’d discovered it in Potions when they’d brewed  _ Amortentia _ for the first time. She didn’t inhale Ron’s fresh-cut grass or new parchment — well, there was parchment, but it was older, like antiquarian books — and she definitely  _ did not _ smell his unfashionable hair. She was surrounded by Draco Malfoy’s signature scent  — soft leather, silk sheets, fine wines, and decadent desserts. She smelled culture, breeding, style, confidence, and pure sex appeal. Not bloody grass and… _ nits. _

* * *

 

Draco gently closed the door to the Prefects’ bathroom and removed the spell, frightening the shite out of two first-years who were passing by. He grinned maniacally at them, continuing  until they turned the corner — which they couldn’t reach fast enough — then hightailed it out of there, running as if a squee of fangirls was hot on his tail. 

He barged into the Slytherin common room, leaping over two couches and Daphne’s gym ball — with Daphne still on it — to reach Blaise’s door. A ward was up around the entrance but there was no way  _ it  _ was going to deter a Malfoy on a mission. He waved his wand violently at the closed door and practically collapsed through it as it gave way. 

He didn’t expect to find Blaise and Theo locked in a sixty-nine with their cocks in each other’s mouths. But never mind.

“You two,” he gasped, clutching his sides whilst trying to get his breath back. “Room of Requirement. Two hours. Here’s what I want you to do…”

They listened. But they didn’t see why they should stop what they were doing, either.

* * *

 

Hermione walked towards the Room of Requirement with her bottom lip firmly pinched between her teeth. 

She was officially giving in. For once in her life, Hermione Granger was admitting defeat. 

She’d  _ tried  _ to seduce Ron with smouldering looks and sexy underwear; he’d wondered if she had a twitch, and couldn’t understand why her  _ pants _ had no arse in them. 

She’d suggested role play; he’d asked for extra crispy bacon in his. 

She’d asked if he’d be interested in bondage; he’d informed her he was quite capable of casting an  _ Incarcerous  _ and didn’t need the practise, thank you very much. 

Hermione had even broached the subject of threesomes but Ron wasn’t interested in joining a study group. 

It was useless. 

Today was the last straw. The underwear cost a small fortune, and she’d ended up removing it herself. He didn’t even comment on it! 

And as for seven thrusts? Well, at least it was one better than last time. 

She’d tried. Hermione had really,  _ really _ tried. 

But over the past year or so, she’d found her thoughts preoccupied by another student. At first, she’d pushed the notions away as fast as they’d entered her head. As time went by, however, Draco Malfoy began to fill her every waking moment. 

She’d find herself glancing at him during classes and mealtimes, or following him along corridors, pretending she was heading the same way. Not long after that… 

Well… 

Didn’t she close her eyes and think of  _ him _ every time Ron kissed her? Well, slobbered over her, really. 

Didn’t she lie in bed at night, touching herself, wishing her hands were  _ his? _

Yeah, she really did. 

All she wanted was Draco Malfoy. 

And now he wanted her. 

Hermione was officially throwing in the towel. Done. Finished. End of. She no longer wanted  _ anything _ to do with Ron Weasley. 

Lavender could have him. 

Or Filch.

She didn’t care.

Draco Malfoy was on the other side of the door she’d just reached — the sexy, ultimate bad boy, sexy, controlled, sexy… 

He was going to make it all right. In every possible way.

* * *

 

Draco Malfoy was indeed on the other side of the door. 

Absolutely shitting himself.

* * *

 

As Hermione walked closer to the entrance, it swung open to reveal virtual darkness. She frowned, pausing to summon her Gryffindor courage and step into the abyss. 

_ In for a penny, right? _

Instantly, the door closed behind her, making her jump. Hermione stood still, squinting, trying to see further into the darkness.

“Hello?” she called.

There was no answer. She considered turning around and feeling her way out as panic flooded through her veins. 

_ What if it was all a joke? _

“Hermione.”

Several golden candles flickered to life around the room, giving it an ethereal glow. As her eyes adjusted to the candlelight, a large circular bed came into view, its mattress at waist height and draped in the most luxurious scarlet silk sheets. 

_ How the hell do I get up onto that?! _

She spotted the matching footstool placed conveniently beside the bed. 

_ How considerate! Climbing up onto that isn’t going to be sexy. _

_ Unless he thinks I’m into that kinky type of sex where adults dress as babies.  _

It was Hermione’s turn to get a little sick in her mouth. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t come.” 

Draco’s voice was quiet, tentative. He was behind her again, just like the bathroom an hour ago.

“Draco,” Hermione breathed, closing her eyes. “Touch me. Show me you’re real.”

He stepped closer, setting her nerves alight. As his chest lightly touched her back, Draco reached down and covered Hermione’s shaking hands with his own. 

“I’m real,” he whispered in her ear, his heart pounding. “I want you so much.”

Tears pricked her eyes at the sentiment she’d dreamed of hearing.

“Hermione, look at me.”

He released her hands and she slowly turned, staring up into silver eyes as she blinked her emotions away. Draco cupped her cheeks, using his thumb to wipe her tears. 

“You’ve been on my mind forever,” he smiled, searching her face with so much adoration it took her breath away. “I’ve hated seeing you with... it’s nearly killed me. You deserve so much more.”

Hermione raised a finger to his lips. “Will you show me what I’ve been missing… please?”

Her vulnerability was still there, in the timid tone of her voice. She didn’t realise the power she held over Draco in that moment. 

“Oh, Hermione.” Draco wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. He would never let her go. “I’ll show you the world.”

“Okay,” she whispered into his chest. “Okay.”

* * *

 

Theo lay back on Blaise’s bed, thoroughly shagged. 

“Remind me what we’ve agreed to?”

Blaise raised himself up on an elbow to gaze down at his lover. 

“We’ve  _ agreed _ to assist Draco in the seduction of one Hermione Granger.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s in love with her, and has been pining after Gryffindor’s Princess for Merlin knows how bloody long. Since the Weasel can’t satisfy her properly, he has selflessly taken it upon himself to show her all that is good in the world of sex.”

“But why us? We’re—”

“What? Gay? Well, of course we are! Don’t tell me, Theodore, that you’ve never fantasised about seeing Draco Malfoy naked!  _ Ever? _ ”

“Well, I wouldn’t say no, Blaise,  _ you _ know that. But seeing and doing are two completely different things.”

“It’s my bed you come back to,  _ amore _ . And the idea of watching you with someone else certainly has its…  _ merits _ . Anyway, he’s asked us _ because _ we’re gay. Weren’t you paying attention?”

“With your cock in my mouth? No, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Neither of us will try to steal her away from him. We get to play with the little lioness and hand her back afterwards. Job done.”

“But we don’t—”

“I know,  _ stallone _ , neither of us want Granger in that way, but we can still  _ enjoy _ both of them,  _ si? _ We’ve both entertained female company before. Think of what we can revel in, hmm? The pleasure of skin and—” Blaise leaned closer to Theo’s face “—fucking.”

Theo moaned, reaching up to kiss Blaise deeply before flopping back down onto the pillow. “And we agreed to this because…”

“Because Draco is our best friend and we’d do anything to see him naked,” Blaise smirked. “His promise of a lifetime membership to The Drag Inn Gay Club also helped — I’ve been trying to get in there for ages! Wait till you see my  _ I Will Survive _ . My outfit is to  _ die _ for, love!”

* * *

“What do you want me to do, Draco?” 

Hermione was still in Draco’s arms, enjoying the feeling of being close after all the time spent fantasising about him. 

“I want you to trust me,” he replied, pulling back to look directly at her. “It’s you for me, remember that. But I just want you to trust me tonight.”

The look of raw emotion in his eyes touched Hermione’s heart, and she nodded. 

“I thought I was hallucinating back in the classroom,” she admitted. “I wanted it to be you so badly. You can’t imagine—”

“How did you know it was me?” He started to open her shirt buttons, agonizingly slowly. 

Hermione took a deep breath before answering, her fingers trailing down Draco’s arms as spoke, her eyes firmly fixed on the floor. 

_ "Amortentia.” _

Draco stopped, placing a finger under her chin to tilt her head up. Hermione glanced at him, her cheeks reddening. 

“Me?” He asked quietly. 

“You,” she replied. “I knew the moment the vapours rose from the cauldron. I knew before—”

His lips took her words away.

The kiss was everything a first kiss should be — tender and cautious — as they held each other. They were both gentle, allowing themselves time until a low moan from Hermione ignited the smouldering fire Draco had been trying so hard to contain. He pulled her closer with one hand, tightly wrapping the other in her curls. His tongue danced along her bottom lip, inviting her to open and let him in. She did so, meeting him with the same passion and need.

The kiss continued, heating up to a burning embrace. Draco’s slow approach to undressing Hermione was quickly replaced by ripping cotton and tinkling buttons as they bounced off the floor. She was just as desperate, tearing at his tie and shirt as if her life depended on touching his skin. 

“No!” Draco stepped back, gasping for breath. “Not like this.” 

_ “What—?” _

He cupped her face in his hands, his expression heated. “Tonight is for your pleasure. Trust me.”

Hermione placed her hands over his. “I do.”

Draco led her to the bed and stopped beside the small footstool. Removing his wand from his trousers, he waved it at Hermione’s shirt. It was instantly repaired and rebuttoned. 

Hermione looked down, then up, in bafflement.

He laughed. “It’s all about seduction,” he explained. “Tearing each other’s clothes off is for sex. I plan to make love to you, Hermione.”

She could hardly stand; his words alone were pure sex! 

“Draco—”

“Ssh,” he whispered, undoing his tie and opening up his own shirt. A velvet couch of matching scarlet appeared close to the bed and Draco laid his clothes on the arm. His shoes and socks were next, leaving him just in his tailored trousers. He casually opened the button and zip, and the material rested a little lower on his hips. 

“You’re perfect,” Hermione whispered, reaching for him, aching to caress his porcelain skin. “Please—”

“Not yet,” he teased, stepping further away. “This is about you. I want you to do as I say, Hermione.”

She was in agony — desperate to touch him, to touch herself. Her skin burned for him, her lips craved his. Her pussy dripped; Hermione felt the wetness on her thighs. 

It was beautiful. 

“Remove your skirt and socks,” he instructed, walking around the circular bed as he spoke. His tone had changed to one of authority and control, confidence oozing from him. 

She did what he asked —  _ ordered _ — without question, placing the clothing beside his on the couch. Draco reached out a hand to take hers, guiding her back to the footstool.

“I want you to lie in the middle of the bed and close your eyes.”

She could only nod. Her vocal cords had seized up. 

Hermione tried to climb onto the bed as elegantly as possible but she reckoned she’d need more practise. 

_ Gods! Let there be more practise! _

“Lie down, Hermione, and listen to me.”

She lay down on her back, unsure what to do with her hands or whether she should tidy her hair, or…

“There’s no right or wrong way. Be comfortable, and trust me.”

She was about to speak when a band of dark silk covered her eyes, instantly adhering to her skin. It was comfortable, although a little daunting, but she’d agreed to trust him. 

“I’ve taken your sight so your other senses will be heightened. There’s no need to worry.”

“I’m not worried,” she replied, her voice still a little shaky. “I promise.”

“Good. Let’s begin.”

The most seductive music began to play in the background. the air seemed to caress Hermione’s skin as the notes floated over her. 

“Open the buttons of your shirt… slowly. Let the material fall on either side of your body.”

She did as he instructed, fingers fumbling a little to begin with. Hermione’s bared skin broke out in goosebumps, her nerves craving his touch.

“Raise your arms above your head.”

Draco leaned across the bed, taking her hands in one of his, smiling in response to the trust she was showing him. He  _ Accio’d _ his school tie, lashing it around her wrists. Another sticking charm kept her hands above her head. 

“Draco…”

“Ssh... that’s touch removed. You’ve already experienced the sense of smell. Now you’ll only hear… and taste.” 

Hermione nearly…  _ Circe! _ His voice! Draco Malfoy would never ask her to shove her knickers down and open up for Long Ron Silver. He was going to make her scream. 

And she really wanted to.

“Hear me, Hermione. Listen to what I say, because I mean every word.”

He kept moving around the bed and she tried to follow the sound of his voice. 

“Relax. Just listen.”

“O-okay.”

“The day we brewed  _ Amortentia _ , I knew it would be your scent before we even began. There has never been another witch in my heart. It’s always been you.”

He trailed his fingers along her bound hands as he passed by. 

“Your shampoo — seaweed and peony. It’s a brand from the apothecary in Hogsmeade. The smell of antiquarian books — your endless passion for knowledge. The third smell took me a little longer to figure out — but it’s your… sex. I can’t describe what it’s like; it draws me to you like nothing I’ve ever experienced. The scent of your body in the classroom, in the Prefect’s bathroom — it begs for me, Hermione. And I want it.”

Hermione writhed on the bed, squeezing her thighs together to try and ease the throbbing ache in her core. She was soaking, the material between her legs dark from her arousal. 

“I watched you stand in the classroom earlier,” Draco continued, his voice still driving  her wild. “Your choice of underwear is delicious. You’ve no idea how it made me feel to be so far away, needing to touch you. I imagined peeling that longline bra from your body, sliding my fingers along your skin, making you harden at my touch. Then I’d bend down behind you to lick your arse as I pull down your thong and… hmm...”

He was torturing her, leaving his sentence hanging, knowing she would automatically fill in the gaps with her fantasies. 

“Tell me, Hermione. Is your underwear from the Séduire range at Le Désir? In Tiffany-blue?”

Hermione gasped. How the  _ fuck _ did Draco Malfoy know that? The man was a walking turn-on!

“Of course I know.” He answered her private thoughts. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you looked then? How much I wanted you?  _ Still _ want you? Hermione, I’m going to buy the entire range for you, in every colour. Only so I can take them off you.”

Hermione couldn’t think. His words had made her so desperate for his touch. 

“Draco… please...”

A swift flick of his hand vanished her open shirt and undid the bra clasps, leaving the material loose on her chest. Despite the fine material’s weightlessness, Hermione could barely breathe. 

“Draco…”

“I look forward to undoing those clasps. One. By. One.” He quietly stepped out of his trousers and boxer shorts, palming an erection that was now bordering on painful. Merlin, he wanted her!

“But that’s for the next time,” he continued. “And the times after that…”

He climbed onto the bed and crawled towards her. There was no one to witness his actions —  _ and _ Hermione was blindfolded — but he moved with a feline grace that was hot as fucking hell.

No kinky toddler-style wobbles when climbing onto  _ that _ mattress. 

Hermione’s legs were still locked together, trying to relieve the pressure building in her core. Feeling the mattress dip and sensing his approach, she moaned in desperation. 

“As for now…” he whispered, placing a tender kiss on her ankle, “now I get to have you.”

He moved over her, leaving a trail of sensual kisses along her legs. Hermione gasped, pleading with him to… well, even  _ she _ wasn’t sure what she wanted by then. 

Draco reached her thong and inhaled the third  _ Amortentia _ scent — her own unique smell, begging him to continue. He saw the material’s dark stain and added to her arousal by running his tongue along it. 

He continued up towards the stomach that had captured his attention earlier on, his lips and tongue gliding over the tanned skin and kissing their way up to the lace at the bottom of her bra. 

“Hmm...” he murmured, his lips never leaving her skin, “you taste so good.”

Draco pulled at the lace with his teeth, dragging the bra across her skin and flinging it away. Somewhere. He didn’t care where it went — he was far too preoccupied with making Hermione Granger writhe beneath him. And,  _ fuck _ , was she writhing!

“So gorgeous,” he whispered, trailing his tongue along the underside of her left breast. Her gasp raised her body to him as he lowered his lips to her nipple and grazed his tongue over the tightened bud. He had to remind himself not to suck hard or bite — this was about sensual pleasure. The  _ fun _ would come afterwards. And all the times that would follow. 

He licked and caressed across to her right breast, rewarding the pebbled nipple with just as much attention. Draco was still on his hands and knees — the only parts of him touching Hermione were his lips and the strands of hair from his fringe that tickled her skin. Her reaction to his mouth was explosive and he found himself breathless at the thought of what she would do if he lowered his body to hers — the first contact of skin on skin.

They’d probably hear her cries as far away as the the Three Broomsticks. 

Draco slowly moved to lie on top of her, his weight balanced on his forearms at either side of her head. His erection pressed into her thigh, relieving him only slightly as he moved gently against her. 

“Do you feel me, Hermione? Do you feel how hard I am for you?”

“Oh, gods,” she moaned. “I need you… Draco… please!”

“Patience,” he teased, running his lips across her cheek. His featherlight kisses traced the outline of the blindfold before returning to her lips. “We have all the time in the world.”

He sat back on his knees. Grazing his fingertips along her skin, Draco traced lines down her body to the lace of her thong and, agonizingly slowly, teased it down her legs until it was also discarded. Somewhere.

She lay before him, beautifully naked. 

“Draco,” she whispered, her voice desperate. “I need to see you.”

“Soon.” The air of authority was back. 

He gently pushed her legs apart, lay between them and feasted on Hermione’s clit like it was his last meal — her screams the sweetest music to his ears. His tongue danced with her folds, breath caressing her soft skin. She was spellbound on the bed, every nerve alight with desire. 

They were perfect together. 

Hermione’s breathing became more and more erratic as she keened, held down by Draco’s firm hand on her stomach. She fought — desperate to move — but he was stronger, completely in control. It was frustrating… and so fucking hot!

Draco’s heart was ready to burst. He’d wished for this moment — having Hermione Granger beneath him — but he’d never dreamt she’d be so responsive to his touch. She was soaking against his lips, her arousal practically pouring onto his tongue. He didn’t think he’d ever felt so happy, so bewitched. 

He hummed against her clit, earning another cry from his witch. 

She  _ was _ his witch… wasn’t she? 

(Malfoy cockiness, my arse!)

Draco pulled back and rested his arms beside Hermione’s head again. He whispered the password to remove her blindfold and watched her blink several times before settling her eyes on his. 

“Draco,” she breathed, squirming to feel him against her. “I—”

He stared down into her deep brown eyes, so full of passion and…  _ could it be?  _

“I’m in love with you, Hermione,” he admitted. “I need you to know that. I  _ want _ this. I want  _ you _ .”

She could hardly breathe. He’d slithered into her heart over the past few months, but she never thought for a moment she’d have a chance with Draco Malfoy. And now, here he was, telling her he loved her. She could’ve died from happiness. Right there. Dead. 

The late Hermione Granger. 

“I-I’ve wanted you for so long,” she whispered. “I didn’t think… Draco, I’ve always pretended it was you—”

Tears flooded her eyes. He lowered his head to kiss them away. 

“Please don’t ever tell me that again, Hermione. How could you possibly think I’d slobber over you like a St Bernard? And I think I can last a bit longer.” 

She laughed, her heart soaring as he grinned down at her. 

“Prove it,” she purred.

Winking, Draco guided his cock through her soaking folds, groaning at the sensations that shot through his body. His eyes flickered shut as he savoured the feeling. 

“You feel so good,” he sighed. “Gods, you’re perfect.”

Hermione couldn’t speak. She’d been so close to coming when Draco’s tongue was between her legs. The only way she’d ever come before was by her own hand. But this? This was beautiful. This was what it should be like.  _ This _ was what she’d always dreamt it would be like. 

They moved as one, Hermione matching Draco’s slow thrusts, eyes only on each other as their breath mingled in the air. He untied her hands, relishing the feeling of her now-released fingers sliding through his hair. 

He passed seven thrusts. She counted.

So did he.

_ Fuck you, Weasley! Ha ha! _

She ended up losing  count.  _ That _ was how good Draco Malfoy was. 

He felt her tighten as he moved, her breath catching on each thrust. 

“Draco—”

“I know, my love, come with me.”

His voice was pure seduction, her body under his spell. Hermione’s orgasm pulsed around his flesh and Draco joined her several thrusts later, crying out her name as he poured himself into her waiting core. 

Neither moved in the moments that followed. They just stared at each other, catching their breaths. 

Hermione was the first to break the silence. 

“I thought I loved… sorry,” she smiled sheepishly, caressing his cheek with her hand. Draco closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. “But what I felt was nothing compared to this. If this is love, Draco Malfoy, then I want it. With you.”

Draco opened his mouth but was interrupted by a heavy thud from across the room, followed by the delightful tones of a certain Blaise Zabini. 

“BUGGERING COCK-SUCKING BOLLOCKING _ FUCK!” _

Hermione screamed, burrowing herself in Draco’s chest and revealing her bare arse in the process. 

“Now, there’s a sight,” Theo quipped, helping his lover up. A rather indignant Blaise held Hermione’s bra between his fingers and glared.

“Careful where you throw things, lovey. I could’ve broken my balls!”

“Draco,” Hermione whispered, “what’s going on?”

Draco bit his lip. This was the delicate part — would she or wouldn’t she agree? Maybe he should have maybe mentioned it a little earlier… maybe. 

“My plan for this evening was to seduce you, Hermione,” he whispered, holding a hand up to Blaise and Theo. “You’ve had… less-than-favourable experiences to date and I want to give you what you’ve been missing. I want you to be worshipped. Nothing needs to happen, not if you don’t want it. But trust me, it’ll make you… scream.”

She could hardly speak. If she had knickers on, they’d need replacing. Again. Hermione may have given the rest of the wizarding world the impression she had a spare wand permanently shoved up her arse, but little did they know that there was a side to the Gryffindor know-it-all that rarely came out. Even Ginny had only seen bits. 

Like the time they went to see the Muggle band Muse, and Hermione flashed her tits at the lead singer. And the bass player, the drummer, and the guy who checked her ticket going in.

Not forgetting the week’s detention McLaggen got when his cauldron blew up, sending a blob of burning zit-removing potion straight to his balls. He’d sworn to Professor Snape he’d put the right amount of giraffe tonsils in — which he actually had — but he’d also leered at Hermione’s arse and tried to cop a feel. Stupid poncy prick!

Or the time she tried to get her favourite Muggle actor’s phone number… the less said about  _ that _ , the better.

“Let me guess,” she smirked, rolling away from Draco and sitting up on the bed. She rested back on her hands and stretched her legs out, leaving nothing to the imagination. “You thought Blaise and Theo here could join in the fun and — considering they’re gay — you’d have no competition.”

“How did—”

“I thought we were—”

“Well, I—”

“Boys,” she cooed, raising a hand to stop them. “Draco, this may be new between us but, if you’re serious about me, there’s no way in hell you’d let anyone straight see the reverse of my school tie, nevermind my knickers. As for you two? Bitches,  _ please! _ ”

Draco was quite sure he fell a little bit more in love just then. 

“So,” she continued, turning to a bemused Theo and an undressing Blaise, “you two are here to make me scream, hmm? And what about Draco? What does he get?”

Draco shot up, stuttering.  

“No! Er… it’s all for you—”

“Ah, ah, ah. No, no, Draco. If I’m going to be spoiled by these two fine specimens, and  _ they’re _ certainly not going to ignore each other throughout, I think it’s only fair that you should participate as well. House unity and all that.” She leaned closer to him. “The idea of watching you kiss another man is such a turn-on.”

Draco would’ve rammed his tongue down Flitwick’s throat that instant if he thought it would turn Hermione on. 

“Well, now that _ that’s _ settled,” Blaise interrupted as he dropped his boxers. “Who’s first?”

Hermione licked her lips, watching the Italian saunter towards her. She crawled to the edge of the bed and sat up on her knees. “What do you have in mind, Blaise? May I call you Blaise?” 

“ _ Leonessa, _ you can call me anything you like.”

He grabbed the back of her head, pulling her forward and kissing her deeply. She groaned into his mouth, wrapping a hand around his neck and pressing her body to his. Her other hand reached for his cock, standing proudly against her stomach, and began to stroke it. 

“Is this all for me too?” She grinned.

“That,  _ bella _ , is Theo’s. But I’m sure he’ll let you borrow it… for a price.” The dark Italian smiled down at her, his breath hitching as she started to pump the article in question. 

Hermione turned to see an undressed Theo climbing onto the mattress.  _ Fuck _ , he was sexy and… Oh. My. God. The size of  _ that! _

Also, she really did need to practise her mattress work. 

“Theodore, please may I borrow Blaise’s cock?”

The quiet Slytherin smirked. “Of course. In exchange for your boyfriend’s lips.”

Draco — who was still in shock at the forwardness of the girl he thought  _ he _ was seducing — bit his lip. This was not going to plan, but here he was — bollock naked and rock hard — with the girl he loved  _ and _ the two blokes he’d recently spied on — and enjoyed watching. 

Yeah, he could do this. 

For Hermione. 

For house unity. 

For England.

He launched himself at Theo, cupping his face and kissing him hard. Theo responded immediately, grabbing Draco’s arse and pulling him closer. Their cocks bounced against one another as their bodies clashed, making them moan. 

Hermione was still on her knees, caressing Blaise’s long, thick erection with one hand. The other slowly crept towards her pussy as she watched Draco and Theo over her shoulder. 

“Allow me,” Blaise whispered, lifting her and turning her around. She was still on her knees but facing the hottest thing she’d ever seen. The Italian stood behind her, massaging her clit as they both watched their lovers tangle together. 

Hermione squirmed against Blaise, reaching behind to grasp him again. They quickened their pace, practically salivating at the sight of Draco and Theo kissing passionately and exploring each other’s bodies. 

They fell onto the bed as Theo reached down to palm Draco’s cock, grinning when the blond cried out. 

“Theo,  _ fuck _ , don’t stop!”

“Oh, I’m not going to,” Theo promised, capturing Draco’s pulsing cock with his lips. He hummed against the thick erection filling his mouth, his fingers toying with Draco’s balls. 

Hermione and Blaise were soaking at the sight. 

“I don’t know about you, love,” Blaise whispered in her ear, “but I want some of that right now.”

She could only nod.

Blaise elegantly climbed up onto the mattress and crawled towards his lover, licking along Theo’s crack before plunging two fingers into his hole. Theo’s moans had Draco practically bucking on the bed underneath him. 

“Hermione,” Draco panted, turning his head to find her. 

She was still on her knees, palming her breasts as her arousal dripped from her body. 

“Draco,” she gasped. “It’s all so fucking hot… I’m so…”

His fingers reached her leg. Gathering up the moisture, he brought his hand to his face, licking her juices away as Theo sucked his cock hard. 

Hermione was so turned on, her body ablaze with need. She grabbed Draco’s face and kissed him deeply before sitting over him and screaming as he sucked on her folds and forced his tongue inside her. 

Blaise had removed his fingers from Theo’s arse moments before, filling it with his thick, hard cock. He locked eyes with Hermione as he relentlessly drove his cock into his lover, over and over again. He moaned at the sensation of Theo’s perfect hole gripping him as he moved. Theo moaned every time Blaise’s long shaft pierced him. Draco moaned as Theo’s tongue flitted across his weeping cock. Hermione moaned at the vibrations from Draco’s tongue shooting through her core. 

Hermione’s eyes strayed to the sight of Blaise’s long, thick cock fucking Theo’s taut arse. She clamped her fingers to her mouth to stifle her moans, borne both out of Draco’s dextrous tongue in her pussy and the raw, hard, hot sex she was witnessing.

“Like what you see,  _ bella? _ ” Blaise grunted, his balls slapping hard against Theo’s flesh. Theo moaned around Draco’s marble-hard cock, the momentum from Blaise’s thrusts forcing Draco’s cock further into Theo’s wet throat.

She nodded, unable to speak.

Draco raised Hermione from his mouth with his hands. “Fucking hell, Theo, I can’t take—”

Theo met his eyes; then he wrapped his hand around the base of Draco’s shaft, wanking it with strong strokes.

“Godric’s bloody…  _ argh!” _ Draco’s words were swallowed up by Hermione’s greedy little pussy. She wailed, rubbing her clit furiously, feeling her orgasm flower.

Blaise kept up his punishing pace, sweat glistening on his beautiful body. He leaned over Theo and gripped his cock, sadly neglected. He whispered something in his lover’s ear — Hermione didn’t hear what it was but Theo moaned with intensity, sending vibrations all along Draco’s cock. It spasmed as Draco bucked, his voice all but non-existent. But it was clear that he was on the edge of coming, and coming very hard, indeed.

“I’m going to come in you,  _ stallone, _ ” Blaise growled, speeding up his dextrous administration to Theo’s cock.

Theo’s body rippled, his hand on Draco’s cock becoming erratic.

The feast in front of Hermione’s eyes and Draco’s ever-more desperate assaults into her pussy became too much. Working her clit hard, she threw back her head and came with a cry, right into Draco’s ravenous mouth.

This beautiful sight set off a chain reaction.

Draco’s body stiffened – then he ejaculated, spewing sperm into Theo’s eager mouth. Theo swallowed his friend’s come and pulled his cock free of his mouth, groaning in ecstasy as Blaise’s strong, fast hand generated his own orgasm.

Watching three people orgasm wildly before him was too much for the Italian. He gripped Theo’s hips and slammed himself in as far as he could, loosing off all manner of Italian swear words as he emptied himself into his lover’s body.

They were like a well-oiled, sexy machine.

They spent hours in the Room of Requirement, exploring and experimenting. Draco’s insistence that his cock would be the only one to ever touch Hermione’s pussy didn’t stop her from getting an Outstanding from Blaise for the best blow job — by a female.

Theo was quite taken with the Gryffindor Princess and cordially invited her to sit on his face anytime she liked.

* * *

 

After the lovers had left — amid promises to make sure  _ that _ happened again — Draco asked the Room to provide a bath. He lay against the bath’s cool porcelain with Hermione nestled between his legs and casually fondled her breasts as they relaxed. 

“You certainly treated me to a night of… what did you call it? Sensual pleasure?” she sighed, stretching as Draco’s hands slid down between her legs. 

“I think we got more than we bargained for,” Draco admitted. “Are you okay with that?”

“More than okay,” she replied. “Promise me we’ll do it again.”

“I honestly thought you’d enjoy a massage and let Blaise and Theo go down on you. I didn’t realise watching you give Blaise a blow job would be such a fucking turn-on. And when you rode Theo’s face… Merlin, witch, I fucking _ loved _ it!”

Hermione turned in his arms, leaning on his chest and grinding against his growing erection. 

“As for you,” she grinned. “You enjoyed kissing Theo, admit it.”

“Yeah, I really did. But—”

Hermione placed a finger on his lips.

“Ssh, I know. It’s just me for you, Draco. The same goes for me. I love you. You’re all that I want — all I’ve  _ wanted _ .  But we can have fun and still be a couple. If you still want—”

“Witch, I’ll marry you right now,” he replied, grabbing her arse and kneading it. “Now, ride me.”

She laughed,  _ Accio-ing _ her wand and waving it towards the door. A silvery wisp floated around the room before disappearing through the wooden frame. 

“What’s that?” Draco asked, closing his eyes as she sank down onto him. 

“My Patronus,” she answered, “which will be telling Ronald and his Seven Thrusts to fuck off, right… about… now.”

_ Fin. _

**Author's Note:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY, C.B.  
> XX


End file.
